NAPOLEON'S TOMB.
Reading edition
Written by Hon. Robert J. Walker (then a student) in 1821, on hearing of the death of Napoleon.
See where amid the Ocean's surging tide A little island lifts its desert side, Where storms on storms in ceaseless torrents pour, And howling billows lash its rocky shore— There lies Napoleon in his island tomb: Nations combined to antedate his doom. Mars nursed the infant in a thundercloud, France gave him empire, Britain wrought his shroud. Danger and glory claimed him as their own, And Fortune marked him as her favorite son; Science seemed dozing in eternal sleep, And superstition brooded o'er the deep; Black was the midnight of the human soul, Such Gothic darkness shrouds the icy pole: Napoleon bade his conquering legions pour The blaze of battle on from shore to shore: Though blood and havoc marked the victor's way, Blest Science shed her genial ray. Betrayed, not conquered, round the hero's sleep The Arts shall mourn, and Genius vigil keep.